Separation Anxiety
by MissScorp
Summary: Saying you miss someone and want them to come home isn't easy for the Boy Wonder. One-shot. *Complete* T for mildly suggestive themes.


**A/N:** Hello m'dears… I hope that the week has been a good one to you.

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The text message was short and got directly to the point: _'I can't sleep.'_

She smiled as she read it. She could just picture his little face all scrunched up into that little perma-sneer of his (that one which was almost like the one his father could achieve when he was being especially difficult to deal with). She knew those eyes (which were that stormy shade of blue his father's were and not that hard green like his mother's) were glued to the screen of the phone he held between his hands. He was proficient at touch typing (like most of their generation) so those quick, clever fingers of his would have easily tapped out the ten letters in his statement without once pausing or making any sort of mistake.

Knowing her little birdie as she did, she could picture that he was sitting on the floor beside his bed, his arms folded about his bent knees and his chin plopped down on top of them while he waited (impatiently, mind) for her to text him back. The phone would be on the floor next to him, set to vibrate so that it wouldn't attract the attention of either his taciturn father, or the butler who somehow managed to see and hear everything going on no matter what you did to prevent it.

With a smile she typed a message back to him:_ 'Why can't you sleep'?_

She could well imagine that he was picking his phone up, reading the message she sent and letting out that little annoyed _Tt _sound of his she found so adorable. She knew how much it cost Damian to reach out, to initiate contact with her and open a line of conversation that was clearly going to lead into the topic that he, much like his father, preferred to avoid: his feelings. Pride and obstinacy were things her baby bird had inherited in a double dose. Pride, obduracy, a single-minded determination and a cynical attitude were the four worst traits that his parents had shared with their son. Yet, _she_ loved him despite those flaws. She loved him _because _of those flaws.

He was, after all, her martian child. And she was his monster.

If people thought the dynamic between the two of them was weird, they didn't dare say. But then, the entire dynamic of the Wayne (and Gordon) household was one built upon eccentricities and oddity. All of them: her, Dick, Tim, Cass, Damian, and even Jason (though he'd go out of his way to deny it) considered Bruce as their father (and he was now legally her father-in-law following her marriage to Dick). Barbara saw him as a surrogate uncle. She saw her Uncle Jim as her second father and Barbara as her older sister. Tim and Dick thought of each other as brother's (and so did Jason, though the big jerk would scoff and say she was, of course, mistaken).

Damian saw Dick as his brother (and Tim and Jason as objects that were in the way of his having his father's undivided attention), partner, mentor, and best friend. Tim and her were brother and sister (a relationship established before either of them even knew it was okay to adopt each other) while Cass and Tim were more like partners and friends than siblings. She tended to see Cass as her cousin (even though she was now her sister-in-law). Barbara, as well, saw Tim as her kid brother, and Cassandra as both an ally and her ward. In short, they were one huge, custom created family.

And that was just fine with them.

It was only her relationship with Damian that didn't quite fit in with the rest of the family dynamic. Damian was now her brother-in-law and baby bird. She felt that she was more _mom _than _sister _to the youngest Wayne member. She'd become his _mom _after Bruce's _death (_and Damian's own subsequent choice to remain in Gotham and officially take up the mantle of Robin). It was a relationship that suited the two of them just fine. It was also why he was texting her at nearly four in the morning just to say he couldn't sleep.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced at it. As expected, the answer was a short and cryptic one:_ 'Just can't'._

It was followed by another, equally as short text:_ 'Come home.'_

Realizing she was not going to get the truth (which was that he missed his _mom_) via the electronic device in her hand, Raya text him one last message: _'If'n I'm coming over, ya better have cookies waiting'._

The reply took only a matter of seconds: _'Fine.'_

Another text followed less than a second later: _'Bring Grayson with you. If he is not exhausted by all that training you two do'._

Chuckling softly at her little bird's ability to sass and give orders all in one text message, Raya tossed back the covers and padded over to fish Dick's car keys from out of his pants pocket. She then exited the bedroom, calling to Dick as she skipped down the stairs into the main foyer of their home.

"Babe?"

"Kitchen!" he yelled.

She turned at the bottom of the stairs and followed a long hallway to where the kitchen sat at the back of the house. She poked her head around the corner of the open door and saw her husband of less than two months standing in front of the fridge in nothing but gray boxers, his hair still damp from the shower he'd taken after coming in from patrol, drinking milk straight out of the carton and looking so incredibly adorable while doing it that she was half-tempted not to scold him about it. _Half-tempted_, she thought as she moved to stand in the doorway, smirking.

"Do I need to post a sign on the carton that says _use a glass, ya jerk?_"

Dick lowered the carton and flashed a quick, boyish grin at her. "Are you expecting that I'm gonna actually _read_ said note on said milk carton before drinking from it?"

Her lips trembled. "Of course not." She sauntered over and hooked an arm around his neck. "Now gimme a kiss, bird brain."

"Not if you're gonna call me names," he teased a second before dropping a quick kiss to her lips.

"Now," she said playfully. "Be a good hubby and go put some pants on. We've been ordered to come up to the Manor."

His eyebrows shot up. "We have? By who?"

"Who else?" She chirped. "Damian."

"Damian?" he drawled slowly. "And exactly _why_ is he ordering us to come up to the Manor at four in the morning?"

"Well," she said slowly. "It seems like he can't sleep."

Dick slid his arms around her waist, pulled her against him. "Again?"

She skimmed her lips over his cheek, his jaw. "He's just missing having us at home."

"We live ten minutes away," he pointed out, "and Damian knows he can come over whenever he finds himself missing us."

"Yeah, but _our_ home isn't yet a home to _him_. Yanno he's funny about these kinds of things."

_He is like Bruce in that regard_, Dick thought with a sigh. Neither one was capable of simply saying _'I miss you, please come home.' _No, it was always a veiled comment or a subtle gesture that gave away what either one was really thinking or feeling. He looked down into his wife's eyes.

"So…guess this means that we're spending the rest of the night at the Manor."

"Yep, looks like it."

"Exactly why do we have a house when we never actually live in it for more than a night or two at a time?"

She gave him a quick, smacking kiss. "I tend ta recall it was because you wanted ta make a home with me…"

He snorted. "Startin ta think our home is at the Manor and that this is just our love nest, Rae."

"_Honeymoon_ pad," she teased him. "This is our _honeymoon_ pad, babe."

"Which we never use," he complained while nudging her out the door. "Might as well move back into the Manor considering how we practically live there still anyway."

"Bruce wouldn't object to that," she pointed out cheerfully, "and neither would Alfred or Damian for that matter."

Dick pushed her towards the front door. "Just go get the car while I put on pants and a shirt."

Her lips twitched. "Can we negotiate the shirt?"

"Go," he huffed. "Or you'll be losing _your_ shirt."

She grinned saucily at him. "It's your shirt."

Dick growled and chased her up the stairs.


End file.
